


a young lover's rage

by rumandraisins



Series: be careful making wishes in the dark [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Lots of Mentioned Character Deaths, M/M, Stockings, but it's gory when you think about it, it's a kink probably, none of them are canon characters because I'm Weak, slight - Freeform, slight gore, the description isn't gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandraisins/pseuds/rumandraisins
Summary: Serial killer boyfriends!au because Tooru and Koushi are perfect for each other and Hanamaki Takahiro thinks it’s not too fucking much to ask that they don’t shove their domestic bliss at his face every chance they get while he’s still busy leaving courtship corpse bouquets for his best friend, who can’t take a fucking hint.





	a young lover's rage

**Author's Note:**

> Dw, no exes were harmed in the making of this fic. ~~Unless you wanted them to be harmed, that is~~

Takahiro and Oikawa become friends after Oikawa asks him if it’s bad to kill people and instead of saying _yes_ like a good boy, Takahiro shrugs and says, “Depends.”

A spark of delight flashes through eight-year-old Oikawa’s eyes. “No one’s ever said that before!” he crows. “Depends on what?”

“I don’t know,” Takahiro admits, observing the other boy carefully and noting the dozens of alien pins on his backpack. He looks like a nerd, the kind of classmate Takahiro usually doesn’t like because they all insist on being spoilsports and goody two shoes. 

But other nerds never have to ask anyone if it’s bad to kill people. 

“Who cares, anyway?” Takahiro asks, waiting for the other’s reaction.

“I like you,” Oikawa declares, taking Takahiro’s hand enthusiastically. “Let’s be friends.”

Takahiro likes Oikawa, as much as he can like people. They would never be as close as Takahiro is with Issei, but Takahiro only envisions killing Oikawa about once every other month. That’s got to mean something, at least. Takahiro once envisioned killing their Japanese Literature teacher fifty-seven different ways in their Japanese Literature period alone. 

He’s dead now, by the way.

Besides, Oikawa would come at him just as hard if Takahiro ever decides to be done with him forever because, like Takahiro, Oikawa doesn’t exactly have a functioning conscience.

Not a lot of Takahiro’s friends can say the same. 

Takahiro spares him for that reason alone.

(And, wouldn’t you know it, Tooru spares Makki for the exact same reason, too.)

And then Oikawa meets Suga and they’re perfect.

Suga didn’t tame Oikawa so much as sharpen him. Before Suga, Oikawa was always reckless with his games. He bored much faster than Takahiro did, threw lethal tantrums and did not care too much about how many bodies he left in his wake. He always wanted to have fun. He always had far too much energy, Takahiro sometimes got tired just looking at him. Suga focused that energy, to himself, to their play. Now when there’s news about someone turning up missing or accidentally dead, Takahiro genuinely isn’t able to tell if it was fate who dealt them a bad hand or if it was Oikawa fucking Tooru.

Isn’t it cute?

True fucking love at work.

Takahiro would be happy for them if he wasn’t so.

Unbelievably.

_Envious._

Takahiro has a Suga.

His name is Matsukawa Issei.

They met each other before Oikawa even _knew_ that Suga existed in the world. They understand each other the same way Oikawa and Suga understand each other. They’ve been understanding each other even _long before that._

By all rights, Issei and Takahiro should have been a power couple a long, long time ago. 

They’re not.

Instead, it happens like this. Instead, they don’t talk about anything and sometimes, Issei goes out on dates. With all kinds of people. Takahiro doesn’t necessarily care who they are or what they do. He doesn’t even bother to learn their names, most days. The only important aspect of these people Issei goes out with is that they’re not Takahiro. 

Takahiro lets him do it, passively watching. Lets him date as much as he wants. They both know he’s going to end up with Takahiro in the end.

That doesn’t mean he just lets all these people get away with having a taste of what’s his, however.

A lot of people like to run away from their district, it turns out. The police keep asking themselves if they should start being concerned. But there’s never anything that stands out as suspicious. They all just up and left. Sometimes, it makes sense to the people close to them. They’ve been _so_ unhappy here. Most of the time, though, it doesn’t but nobody really knows what goes on in the minds of teenagers. 

Someone sets up a hotline. High schoolers should know that there’s people they can talk to.

Nobody really connects the dots, but then again, Issei’s taste in partners is extremely varied.

“Someone will,” Suga warns peevishly, still put out over the fact that Takahiro had walked in on him and Oikawa in the clubroom and refused to leave. 

Again.

“You can just pick up where you left off before I came, you know,” Takahiro drawls, waving a hand in the air. “I doubt it would interest me much.”

“Makki,” Oikawa says poisonously. “If you see so much as a speck of skin beneath Kou-chan’s _shirt,_ I’ll cut off your dick, _then_ I’ll kill you.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Takahiro challenges. “Because me, a burgeoning intellectual, would say: I shall relieve you of your masculine pleasure appendage before subsequently causing an acute myocardial infarction via a diverse selection of procedures that include but are not limited to evisceration, asphyxiation-“

Suga laughs, _“Kinky,”_ which, rude, Takahiro worked hard on that meme. The least he could do was let him finish. Oikawa would have exploded into the most epic of fits. Instead, he looks at Suga heatedly in what he probably supposes is a hot come on and pulls him back down with him over the only bench in the room – Takahiro _sits_ there in his _towel,_ fuck’s sake, they better clean up after themselves – so he can _channel_ his energies in a different way. 

Goddamn Suga, always taking away his fun.

Now Takahiro has to watch them make out, watch as the ferocity of their kisses taper off to something softer, gentler, a kind of tenderness Oikawa is only capable of when he’s with Suga. 

And it’s not fair.

Takahiro had Issei before they had each other.

Oikawa has no right to be this happy before him. 

Takahiro would kill Suga, if he isn’t also sure that Suga will just feel insulted at his puny little plans to off him and laugh the same way he just did while he plunges a blade right into Takahiro’s gut.

He leaves because he was expecting to get some practice on enhancing his voyeuristic tendencies. 

He doesn’t have to stay if they insist on being disgusting.

The next person Issei dates, Takahiro strangles and guts and sets on _fire._

(“You can’t be unaware of what’s going on,” Koushi says, playing with some loose strands of Tooru’s hair. Tooru head shifts in his lap, but he remains otherwise asleep.

Mattsun lazily peels his attention away from the movie they’re watching to regard Koushi with blank eyes. “Hm,” he returns noncommittally, before turning back to the tv.

Koushi would let it go, because it really isn’t his business, but he’s tired of it. He doesn’t like having to police himself physically in front of Makki because Makki will just taunt Tooru and Tooru will just fall for it. He does _not_ like it. He should be able to touch Tooru whenever he wants. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Mattsun’s eyes flick to him again, idly brushing away the nonexistent dirt on his pants. He looks utterly bored. 

“Things to get interesting.”)

And then there comes a day when Takahiro _does_ get the practice on enhancing his voyeuristic tendencies that he’d wanted.

Courtesy of Issei and his latest plaything.

He listens to them, staring at his fingernails in the hallway of Issei’s house. She’s noisy. She moans like a cow a dozen times in half a minute. Takahiro counted.

She’s so fucking _noisy._

When Takahiro kills her, first he cuts off her tongue and sews her lips shut.

She doesn’t ‘run away.’ 

She dies in her bed. Someone had cut her open and the autopsy says that she’s missing her entire reproductive system. It’s gruesome. Her parents had been in their own bedroom two doors away. They had slept soundly through the night. In the morning, they’d knocked on her door telling her she was going to be late, and finally became aggravated enough to open it forcefully only to be greeted by the sight of yellow walls splashed with blood. 

Who could have done something like that?

They don’t ever find out, which is such a pity.

People put flowers on her desk at school. Her best friends cry. Teachers start their homeroom classes by talking about grief counselling sessions being available for those who need it. 

And for the first time since Takahiro started killing all of his past lovers, Issei turns to look at him and smiles.

(“Do you think Makki and Mattsun have sex more times than we have sex?” Tooru pouts, deleting yet another completely unasked for MatsuHana ‘home video.’ 

Koushi snaps out of his sated high, head lolling to the side leisurely as he considers the question. “I severely doubt it.”

Tooru carelessly tosses his phone to his bag, and climbs back to bed. Somehow, Koushi’s fishnets have survived their lovemaking storm. They cling to his legs in the most delicious of ways. Tooru loves the contrast of its dark fabric against the glowing alabaster of Koushi’s skin, black ribbons caging the present of satin underneath, fragile enough that Tooru can snap them with his bare hands, and still strong enough to leave marks behind that Tooru can trace with his tongue. He takes Koushi’s legs, pushes them down and Koushi compliantly bends and bends and _bends,_ until he’s folded nearly in half, and Tooru is pressed up against him, already aching. “But, just in case, maybe we should have sex some more,” he murmurs to the hollow of the back of Koushi’s knee.

Koushi whimpers, leg quivering under Tooru’s lips. “Tooru, if you don’t make use of all these stockings I bought for us, I will be very upset with you.”

Tooru makes use of them.

Tooru makes use of them all.

Tooru makes use of them so thoroughly, Koushi will have to buy new ones if the lingerie mood ever strikes him again, but that’s alright.

He’d bought them specifically so they could be _destroyed._ )

**Author's Note:**

> \- You know in Seijoh's match against Karasuno where Makki and Mattsun easily come up with really ~~mean~~ smart counters to Karasuno's plays? And also that really creepy block by Mattsun where he was like 'you can't hit here, right?' I used that as a base for their personalities in this fic and then ramped it up to 5000000000. I hope it worked out well.
> 
> \- I love the me, an intellectual meme. I love it!
> 
> \- PSA: Suga can also be petty if he wants!!! Be careful of him when is though ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
